Anaheim’s street dogs barked rock and
roll all night, a southern Californian party
succubus appeared in the bathroom mirror,
smiled, torched the en suite, her flames
lit motel room—fantasy-land firemen’s flash flood
doused the fire, western-style. Flesh and spirit.
Ravening faux frippery kept proceedings slippery—
Doctor Sforzando woke from his prescription daze,
saw the future was robot and desert wind on a flat,
high-definition screen controlling people’s lives.
Cold jetlag vision: hungry cars crawl the streets,
stalk haunted people hunting for their car keys.
Pay the succubus. Old Bacchus flies a Disney
rocket ride, belly laughs, his spirit thrives.
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